The moment that green light bloomed,
everything in front of Iain vanished.
Even the wall had "melted" into a massive hole.
At that instant, he realized this was absolutely not some simple Wand-Lighting Charm.
"You damned dark witch!"
"Click, click~"
Iain's hand trembled around the wand. He did not seem to be suffering any aftereffects from magical exhaustion. What truly upset him was the fact that he had been mercilessly toyed with by the old witch.
The little skeleton, which had wisely jumped into its tunnel the moment danger appeared, now poked its head back out with dirt and a tuft of grass roots still stuck on top of its skull.
Even though it had been standing behind Iain and therefore out of range of the spell, it had still chosen the safest shelter available.
Only once all the strange effects had faded did it reemerge.
At that moment, half the room was simply gone.
Moonlight poured in through the opening, and with no curtains left to block it, it painted a sharp-edged rectangle of cold white light across the floor.
"Click, click~"
The little skeleton climbed out of the hole and stood in the empty section of flooring, tilting its head as its two dark hollow eye sockets slowly swept across the ruined room.
In the middle of it all, Iain was desperately trying to recover the losses. His right hand still clutched the once-broken wand as he kept flicking it.
"Reparo!"
"Reparo!"
"Reparo!"
The wand gave no response.
Iain was trying to imitate the old headmaster, but unfortunately his Repairing Charm had failed.
Perhaps he lacked the right emotion.
Perhaps he lacked the talent.
"Damn it! I was set up by that dark witch! My strongest talent was supposed to be White Magic! The only reason I can't use it now must be because my pure soul has already been tainted by Dark Magic!"
Iain howled inwardly.
He would rather believe his soul had been corrupted by dark forces than admit that he could not simply copy a basic Repairing Charm after seeing it once.
Those of us who possess ancient magic are naturally highly resistant to the corruption of Dark Magic.
The diary attempted to shatter Iain's fantasy.
It had no effect whatsoever.
"Hah. As if I'd believe a liar now. I can feel that my soul has been corrupted. My pure soul, do you even understand that, you dark witch?"
"When I was the top dog back at the orphanage, even sneaking one of Keisha's sweets made me feel guilty for a full two minutes!"
A bleak sense of sorrow filled Iain's heart.
He felt no joy whatsoever in mastering power.
Why can this not count as a Wand-Lighting Charm? After all, you did illuminate the darkness, didn't you?
The diary's reply seemed to have learned Iain's way of thinking.
Little brat, in the future you will absolutely thank me, because people like us are never fated to walk the path of truth smoothly.
I would rather not see you fall before you are even able to stand before me on the path of magic.
The words appeared very slowly.
Like an adult patiently reasoning with a tantrum-prone child.
"So that's your excuse for dragging me into Dark Magic? I'm pretty sure you secretly stuffed the Killing Curse inside a lighting spell."
Iain let out a helpless sigh.
The diary, however, seemed to have no intention of hiding anything.
You seem to have at least a little bit of brains, yes. In truth, this is the ancestor of the Killing Curse. After my improvements, it surpassed even the spell for which I became famous.
In Aramaic, NTNTN means 'let the thing end.' Frankly, I always found individually marking targets far too troublesome.
Better to kill them all.
The writing surfaced line by line across the page.
It was difficult to imagine such words coming from a witch whom even Dumbledore clearly respected. Truth be told, even Lord Voldemort himself would have struggled to sound that blatantly murderous.
"Heh. I knew it. Dumbledore has already been killed and turned into your puppet, and now you're using him to control the wizarding world. You're basically the magical version of Orochimaru."
"And me? I'm the magical Sasuke you've got your eye on."
Iain seemed to have entered full surrender mode. He plopped down onto the floor, spread himself out flat, and stared up at the ceiling while speaking in a language the diary could not understand.
"Honestly, maybe it's not so bad. Azkaban is still a school of a sort. It might even have more prestige than the other four Houses. My arrival there would only bring it glory."
He scratched at his cheek and found a fresh vision for his future.
He did not know much, but he knew perfectly well that the Killing Curse was one of the Unforgivable Curses.
What kind of young wizard unlocked that talent tree before even starting school?
Wasn't that practically a direct admission to Azkaban?
"Click, click."
The little skeleton crouched beside him with its head tilted.
Its two glossy, oversized eye sockets stared at the Iain rolling around on the floor. After about ten seconds, it tentatively reached out one finger-bone and poked Iain's shoulder.
Iain lightly patted its hand.
"I understand. You're trying to say that Azkaban is full of talented people."
That was, of course, not what the little skeleton meant at all.
Seeing that it had no way to communicate with the young wizard, it pulled the repaired wand out of Iain's hand.
"Swish, swish, swish!"
The little skeleton gripped the wand, raised it, and copied the way Iain had been waving it around earlier. Unfortunately, just like Iain, it failed to produce any result.
After that fruitless attempt, the little skeleton had no choice but to turn and walk away.
When it returned, it had tied on an apron and brought back a broom.
"Still, I want to be a good person. A noble White Wizard. Someone who can stand gloriously in the spotlight. In a fairy-tale world like this, what kind of happy ending could a Dark Wizard possibly have?"
"Hiss... don't tell me I'm the next great villain the next generation of heroes is going to have to defeat, and I'm being groomed for the role right now?"
Iain's wildly overactive imagination bestowed upon him considerable illegal wizarding talent.
And with it, more worries than most people.
The little skeleton glanced at its incapable "summoner," then briskly began cleaning up the room.
Once the place had been tidied,
the little skeleton put away the cleaning supplies, came back into the room, grabbed "Slug-Form Iain" by the legs, and dragged him back into the bedroom Iain had already settled into.
The diary followed after them.
The little skeleton then locked it inside the damaged room.
It even had enough sense to stuff materials into the gap beneath the door to block it off.
No brain.
Yet somehow better than having one.
"No, I have to wash myself clean. I need to find a Dementor and have it suck all the filth out of my soul, along with the inner demons born from it."
"In fanfic, people use them to suck out certain teenage urges, so they should definitely be able to suck out other things too!"
Iain suddenly sprang upright like a fish flipping out of water, startling the little skeleton so badly it stumbled back several steps. But once it recovered, it promptly shoved Iain back onto the bed.
"Magic skeleton, you're as considerate as a truly good skeleton."
To his credit, Iain knew when to cooperate and pulled the blanket over himself. He offered the little skeleton a heartfelt compliment.
"Click, click~"
The little skeleton did not respond.
It merely walked over to Iain's still-open suitcase, made a bed for itself inside, and climbed in.
Zip.
As the suitcase zipper closed, the little skeleton appeared to be going to sleep.
Moonlight streamed in through the window and fell across the dark red shell of the suitcase.
"Magic skeleton, are you asleep? Quick, I've figured something else out! Maybe if I kill every dark wizard and destroy all dark magic, then nobody will ever know that I'm a dark wizard too. After all, I'd have eliminated the very concept of dark wizards at the root!"
"People would only think I use a particularly rare form of ancient traditional magic! Ah, even in the magical world, I really am still the same genius I always was!"
Having reasoned this out, Iain's mood brightened once more.
He fell peacefully asleep.
In the silent room, Fawkes still sat at the desk hatching eggs, while Handsome Tabby lurked in the corner, apparently searching for another chance to launch an ambush.
The nights in Godric's Hollow were long.
But they always came to an end.